𝕬𝖘𝖞𝖑𝖚𝖒 ; ɴɪɴᴊᴀɢᴏ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴꜱᴇʀᴛ.

21 | the plant | 21

❝I'm already obsessed with you.❞

While Skyler, was engrossed in her school activities, I seized the opportunity to make my way to work, with plans to split my free time between spending some quality moments with Garmadon and embarking on a pseudo-date with Zane. It was important to us that Skyler wouldn't join us this time; after all, she had already graced our outings during the past two occasions.

Zane's schedule today included an important meeting with Sensei Wu, discussing the future direction of the Ninja. Although I was eager to hear about these high-level discussions, I understood that his undivided attention was required elsewhere.

Because Zane couldn't greet me personally, I was ushered into Garmadon's chambers by a small contingent of formidable guards. The imposing figures, clad in their armor, exuded an air of confidence and discipline. Accompanying them was Cyrus Borg, his signature smirk in place, as if he was proud to be involved in this escort.

As I entered Garmadon's chamber, accompanied by Cyrus Borg and the esteemed guards, my hands held a small pot, the delicate earthenware cradling a tender seed. In addition, a small bottle of water rested beside it, the liquid within sloshing softly against the glass sides.

Cyrus Borg, ever the skeptic, pointed to the pot in my hand, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of concern. "I see you have a gift for Garmadon. Are you sure he won't be able to use the gift to his advantage?"

His query was not unfounded. Garmadon, despite becoming a more benevolent figure, still had a history of using any means at his disposal. The gift, seemingly innocent, could potentially be utilized by Garmadon in a manner I had never intended.

I weighed the question in my mind, considering the potential unintended consequences. "It's just a seed," I replied, trying to convey a sense of innocence and reassurance. "A symbol of growth, much like the path Garmadon has taken. I trust his intentions now."

Cyrus Borg's eyebrow arched, a silent challenge hanging in the air. But, for now, he said nothing more, his scrutiny a testament to the intricate web of trust and suspicion that still colored the relationships within our circle.

As the platform silently hummed to life, carrying me through the air towards Garmadon's elevated platform, I couldn't help but admire the skillful engineering that allowed for such effortless vertical transportation. The view from above afforded a panoramic sight of Skull Spiders Village, a testament to the peaceful transition from conflict to collaboration.

I spotted Garmadon's figure on his platform, lounging on his bed, a book nestled between his hands. He seemed relaxed, a stark contrast to the dominating presence he once projected. The sight of him, lost in the pages of his book, somehow soothing, offered a poignant reminder of the personal growth and development we had all experienced.

Cyrus Borg, my escort, offered a final word of encouragement before parting ways. "Good luck. Don't be afraid to call for help." His words, while delivered with a hint of levity, were tinged with an underlying concern, a testament to the complexity of our relationships.

Rolling back on his wheelchair, Cyrus made a hasty retreat, the distance between us growing as he scurried away, his speed picking up in a show of mock fear.

As I disembarked from the platform, I mumbled an affirmation, my focus shifting back to Garmadon. However, what I encountered was not the relaxed figure I'd seen moments earlier. Instead, I found Garmadon towering over me, no longer on his bed but standing confidently, his posture commanding my attention.